


Sweet Dreams

by ficsandfuckery



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Castiel, Comforting Castiel, Dreaming, Episode: s07e13 The Slice Girls, Hurt Dean, M/M, Semi-established relationship, Sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-05 20:35:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1098333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficsandfuckery/pseuds/ficsandfuckery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean’s wrecked from his encounter with his own offspring - despite what Sammy says about it not really being his. He takes a misery nap in the Impala while Sam drives, and Cas pops into his dreaming to make him all better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: Season seven, just post The Slice Girls.

The only sound in the Impala was the roar of the engine as Sammy gunned it down the highway. Dean leaned his head into the crook between his headrest and the seatbelt, his eyes focusing hazily on the dark open road before them.

He was tired, miserable, and a little bit scared that Sam was right - he probably would have let Emma go if his brother hadn’t shot her before he had the chance. Dean closed his eyes, exhausted from the emotional drain of being a father for 48 hours. He vaguely realized that if that was what it was like just for two days, his dad was more of a hero than even he’d given him credit for. It wasn’t long before sleep took him.

—-

He was in Bobby’s living room, Dean’s happy place of a sort. Cas was there, trench coat and all, sitting across from Dean with a worried look on his face. He poured Dean a drink, which the hunter downed quickly with muttered thanks. It looked like his psyche was going to play nice with him tonight.

"What happened?" the angel asked lowly after he’d finished. Dean grimaced. If it weren’t Cas, if it weren’t just a dream, he’d have told him to stuff it. As it was…

"I had a daughter for 48 hours,” he answered. “She was a crazy-ass monster set on killing me painfully; Sammy wasted her in front of my eyes. Just another day at the office,” he said bitterly, pouring himself another drink and downing it in one go.

Castiel moved to sit down beside him and placed a comforting hand on his back. Dean leaned into the touch slightly, less resistant to it than he’d be with a few less drinks and his consciousness. He knew the way this dream was headed; he’d been having dreams like this for months now, though Sam wouldn’t know anything about them if he could help it.

"It wasn’t your fault, Dean," the angel said honestly. Dean fidgeted under his scrutiny and his words.

"How can you say that?" he asked, pushing away the support indiscriminately. “You weren’t there, you don’t know what I did or didn’t do.”

"I know you well, Dean. Despite what you think," the angel replied, frowning and tilting his head just slightly in that way of his. "You’re the first to throw the blame on yourself, even it it’s entirely unjustified. Sam was the one who killed her, you said it yourself. And from what you said it sounds like she was pretty much asking for it. None of that is any fault of yours."

Dean didn’t argue with that, even though he wanted to. He was hit with nostalgia, bringing back the many times he and the angel had had conversations like this while he was alive. An onslaught of feelings silenced him temporarily. When he spoke again, his voice was more raw than before.

"I miss you, Cas," he whispered desperately, turning to face the angel. Castiel leaned in closer and caressed Dean’s cheek softly.

"I am so sorry, Dean," he replied, his face crumpled slightly with regret, his voice low with sincerity. "I miss you too. Very much." Dean ran a thumb along the angel’s rough jaw, fighting back tears he refused to cry even in dreaming.

"Things have been so fucked up since you died," Dean choked out, trying and failing to pull himself away from the angel’s deep blue eyes, then leaning into Cas’ shoulder to hide his face. The angel pulled him in tighter, surrounding the wretched hunter with his arms.

"They were fucked up before I died," he noted. Dean laughed bitterly at the trueness of the statement and the angel’s language, and pulled back slightly, just in time to catch a smile on Cas’ lips, which he kissed briefly, his lips damp with tears despite his best efforts.

“Not this bad,” he argued, while Castiel wiped the tears from his face with soothing fingers. “I never had a daughter with an Amazon Warrior before.” He laughed miserably at how odd that sounded. “I’ve never come that close to screwing up a job because I didn’t want to put a monster in its place.”

Dean tilted his head slightly and brought their lips together again, and the angel returned the affection, their lips pressing together tenderly. Castiel hummed comfortingly against the hunter’s mouth, rubbing small circles along his back.

Dean opened his lips, pressing his tongue needily between the angel’s lips, and Cas allowed him in, letting their tongues press together, warm and wet. He knew what Dean needed in times like these; and he knew what he wanted. 

He knew what the hunter had wanted for so long but never allowed himself to ask for. Not until Cas was really, for all intents and purposes, dead to the world.

Cas finally broke the kiss to pull Dean’s shirt off, and either by angel mojo or by the magic of dreams, it was like the hunter blinked and both of them were suddenly half naked. Or maybe they always had been. Dean kissed his angel hungrily, needily, running his hands over Cas like he’d never get the chance again. (And maybe he wouldn’t.)

The angel kissed him back, reflecting his need and fulfilling it. He pushed slightly against the hunter, leading him down to lay below him on Bobby’s moth eaten couch.

"Why couldn’t I have had the sack to do this when you were still friggin’ alive?" Dean breathed, light self-loathing tinting words that from anyone else’s mouth could’ve just been relieved or lusty. Cas kissed at his neck, bringing their hands together and entwining their fingers.

"You might not have messed that up as much as you believe, Dean," he replied quietly, lips ghosting over Dean’s collarbone as he spoke.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked, frowning in confusion, but the angel didn’t answer, he just brought their lips together again, tilting his head for a better angle.

"You know sometimes I think you’re a bit too much like the real Cas to be just in my subconscious," Dean mused, breaking the kiss and rolling them over so he was on top. "But then I remember that real Cas looked like he was gonna shit himself even at the thought of sex," he added, rolling his hips down over Castiel’s pointedly. The angel pushed his hips up to meet Dean’s with a moan.

"Did it ever occur to you, that I simply did not want to have sex with Chastity, because I did not love her?" he pointed out slightly breathlessly, one hand massaging down Dean’s spine as the hunter pressed their hips against each other again. “Not like you,” he added more quietly.

"Shut up," Dean whispered with a quiet laugh, taking his mouth in another needy kiss.

Castiel met him kiss for kiss until Dean’s mind was spinning with his taste and smell, and the feel of their bodies together. The angel only stopped the flow of it by bringing attention back down south. He slid a hand down between them to push the heel of his hand against Dean’s hard-on.

Dean gasped slightly and smiled against his mouth. He pushed down against the pressure of Cas’ hand greedily, groaning quietly in the back of his throat. Dean’s insubstantial dreams of pants were gone before he could even try to get them off, and the angel grabbed him, twisting his hand and giving a tug.

Dean gasped into his mouth again. Castiel broke their kiss and moved his lips down along Dean’s jaw to his ear where he bit lightly and licked, his breath loud in Dean’s ear.

"Fuck me, Dean," he whispered lowly, needily, and Dean grunted with arousal and shock.

Cas didn’t often swear, but when he did - at least, when the Cas in his dreams did - it was one of the hottest things Dean could think of (the real Cas had still been working up to that, as evidenced by his clever name-calling when he’d molotov’d Michael two years before). The idea of fucking him made Dean shudder with anticipation, his hips jerking down into Cas’ hand.

The angel let their lips come together again with a chaste kiss before Dean nodded slightly, his eyes dark and full of raw want as they gazed into the angel’s. Cas angled his hips upward and spread his legs without waiting another moment, his last articles of clothing vanishing like the dreamstuff they were.

"Don’t we need lube or something?" Dean asked, laughing slightly even as his cock twitched at Cas’ forwardness.

"Don’t be ridiculous, Dean," Cas replied, lining him up. "You’re dreaming," he reminded the hunter.

"Yeah, but— Unhh," Dean was cut short when Castiel took him in quickly and smoothly to the hilt. He was tight around Dean, overwhelmingly tight, but warm, and wet too somehow. "Holy—"

Castiel said nothing, just smiled with a low moan of his own as Dean rolled his hips, hitting his prostate as he did so. Already tight enough that Dean was seeing stars, Cas’ muscles clenched in reflex, causing Dean’s vision to go entirely white for a moment. He groaned loudly, jerking his hips further up into the angel’s tight heat.

Dean pulled back slightly before ramming back in, Castiel clenching and moaning around him. The angel pulled him down by the shoulder for a kiss, soft and tender while Dean thrust into him hard and steady. Dean could barely kiss him back, his mind was so wrecked by what the angel’s ass was doing to him.

Castiel licked and sucked at his lips, making them red and raw with his love, and met Dean’s thrusts with his hips raised. He moaned against the hunter’s tongue, and Dean’s rhythm stuttered. He pulled the kiss apart and moved his lips back to Dean’s ear again.

"I love you, - unh - Dean Winchester," he whispered, his voice as wrecked with sex and emotion and as sincere as it could possibly be.

Dean’s breath hitched slightly, and he thrust harder into the angel, hitting his prostate with the net force of his repressed emotions. Cas’ hips bucked upwards and he cried out, squeezing tightly around Dean’s pounding cock. Dean grunted lowly and sped up his rhythm, desperate now for release.

The angel writhed below him, moaning as Dean hit the sensitive cluster of nerves with nearly every powerful thrust. Dean felt himself becoming more and more undone as he watched the man he loved and had let die fill with pleasure below him.

He slid a hand around the angel’s weeping cock and gave it a long, twisting pull. Their eyes locked, struggling to stay open as both neared climax, panting and sweating as they moved together.

Dean bent down to pull the angel into another kiss as he hit Castiel’s prostate one last time before emptying himself inside the angel with a moan. Cas felt the hunter’s entire body twitch around and inside him as they came together, shooting white ropes across his torso and Dean’s hand.

They kissed with sleepy, stumbling affection for a long time before Dean finally pulled away from the angel’s mouth to smile at him hazily.

"Dream you is really, really good in bed, Cas," he said, his voice low and heavy and fucked-out. The angel smiled.

"Who is to say I’m not really this good? You haven’t tried it," he pointed out.

"Come on," Dean chided, part of his brain suddenly excited for some reason that dream Cas might be right, and the other part a little more sane. "You’re a virgin, and an angelic one at that. There’s no way…"

The angel tipped his chin up to kiss his lips chastely again, before slipping a hand behind Dean’s head and pulling him down to deepen the kiss until Cas was full on tongue-fucking him. Dean groaned into his mouth.

"Okay," he muttered, pulling away for a second. "I promise if you ever manage to come back from the dead," he went on, between deep kisses. "I will fuck you as deeply and as long as I possibly can." Castiel smiled against his mouth.

"Don’t make promises you can’t keep," he chided affectionately, with a swipe of his tongue.

AC/DC played somewhere far off, and Dean wondered how long that had been going on before he realized what was happening. Sam must have turned on the damn radio. He was waking up.

"Cas," he whispered, kissing him again, his lips needing the angel so badly. "I don’t want to wake up."

The angel frowned lovingly, caressing his cheek.

"You can do it, Dean," he said, the kind of faith made into an art form by angels shining in the depths of his blue, blue his eyes. "You can do another day. Smile. For me, for Bobby, and most importantly for Sam."

—-

Dean groaned quietly, feeling himself fall into consciousness like a cold shower.

"Good dream, you sicko?" Sam asked. Dean opened his eyes slightly, blinking in the light of day, and glanced downward. Speaking of cold showers…

"Shut up," he muttered, crossing his legs tightly over the bulge in his pants. At least he hadn’t come in real life.

Sam laughed, and Dean couldn’t help but laugh a little too.

"Who was it? Lindsay Lohan again?" Sam asked disparagingly, still smiling.

"Now come on, that was one time," Dean argued, holding up a finger. "And it was before she went all Courtney Love," he pointed out.

"Whatever," Sam grinned. "You wanna go straight to the motel, or you wanna pick up something to eat first?"

"Let’s get breakfast, I’m starved," Dean answered.

"You gonna do something about your little friend?" Sam asked.

"I know how to take care of myself, Sam," Dean said pointedly. "You wanna help so much, why don’t you take care of her?" he asked with blithe sarcasm. Sam made a revolted face.

"You call your dick a ‘she’?" he asked. Dean laughed.

"That’s what you’re worried about?" he asked.

"No, just— how did I not know that?" Sam asked back, laughing a little in spite of himself.

"What can I say? I’m a man of many secrets," Dean deadpanned.

“Yeah well that’s one of the secrets you can keep to yourself,” Sam retorted, still making a face. Dean laughed.

“Bitch,” he muttered.

“Jerk,” Sam replied easily.

Dean could do another day. Hell, he might even have fun with it.


End file.
